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(TVCAy) 









(oH 7 * 7 “ 




13° 5 


Dedicated to liis highly esteemed 
and much beloved instructor 
Prof. N. M. Anderson. 


IHotc. 


* I f HE following short sketches were written by 
Edwin W* Hale, during his connection 
with the University School, of Cleveland, O* 

Soon after entering the school, he commenced 
writing for the Record, a paper edited and pub- 
lished by the students, and eventually he became 
one of its editors* 

Without his knowledge his father collected 
these contributions to the Record written from 
time to time, and arranged to have them pub- 
lished in book form under the title of Random 
Skits* Mr* Arthur D* Brooks, who is a member 
of the University School, and is also connected 
with the Record and a personal friend of Ned, 
was taken into the secret and he kindly agreed 
to illustrate the work* 

The plan was carried out and herewith is sub- 
mitted the result* 


stable of Contents. 

J A Queer Ghost Story, . . . .7 

A Young Mathematician, . . . .16 

Called Back, . . . . . .18 

The Tournament, . . . . .20 

A Christmas Ghost Story, . . . .25 

Jones’s Adventure With a Whale, . .31 

Deductions a la Sherlock Holmes, . . 38 

A Pleasant Evening and a Quiet Story, . 46 

Scraps From a Note Book, . . .55 

U. S. Foot Ball Song, . . . .57 

An Incident, . . . . . .58 

The Trials of Greatness, . . . .59 




H fijueer Ghost Story. 

HHB T was on the night of the twenty-third of 
I March, 189-, that the mysterious event I 
I am about to relate occurred. All the 
I hoarders °f Bachelors’ Quarters 

where I was staying had gone to some 
entertainment, and I was left alone in 
the house. I was sitting in my room, clad in 
dressing-gown and slippers, gazing into a large 
fire that crackled and sputtered in the open 
grate (for the weather was very chilly, and a 
good fire was a nice thing to have around), 
when I was awakened from my lethargy by the 
violent ringing of the front door-bell. 

Who could the person be that would come to 
the house on such a night as this, and especially 
at such a time, I wondered, glancing at the clock 
which pointed to half-past eleven. Surely it 
could be none of the boarders, for they all had 
latch keys, and as to anybody making a call at 
that time, why, the very idea was ridiculous. I 
sat thinking about this for some time, but was 
finally aroused by the renewed ringing of the 
bell and knocking on the door. Then recollect- 
ing that I was the only person in the house, I 


7 — 


arose from my chair and went down to open the 
door. As I turned the key I heard the im- 
patient stamping of feet on the threshold, and 
when I threw the door open, in stalked a huge 
creature muffled from head to foot in a large 
overcoat, on which glistened a few flakes of 
snow which was at that time falling. From the 
folds of the large garment a hollow voice de- 
manded, “ Why did you keep me waiting there 
in the cold ? ” I thought this a very cool remark 
to make to a person whom he had just routed 
from a nice, warm room, but I apologized to him 
for my delay, and as if satisfied with the apology, 
he strode to the hat-rack, and turning his back 
to me, threw off his overcoat, hung it up, whirled 
about, and looked directly at me. 

I had not until this time seen his face, and the 
start I experienced on looking at it I shall never 
forget. His eyes, which were sunk deep in his 
head, glowed like two living coals, and seemed 
to penetrate into the gloom of the ill-lighted 
hallway. They were shaded by coarse, shaggy 
eyebrows. A prominent nose, small, thin mouth, 
square jaw, and sunken cheeks, completed his 
appearance. But the thing that made my mys- 
terious visitor the object of dread he immediately 
became to me, was the utter pallor of his face, 
not a single touch of color setting off his 
features. It was such a face as one sees on 
the dead. 
































































































































































































































' 


























He stood looking at me for some time, then 
striding forward he extended his hand, saying, 

in a sepulchral voice, “ Mr. , I believe.” 

“ Yes,” I answered, “ but you have the advan- 
tage of me.” At this he thrust his hand into 
his pocket, took out a card case, extracted a card 
and handed it to me. As I reached forward to 
take it my hand encountered his ; it was so cold 
and clammy that the perspiration burst forth at 
every pore. I took the card and holding it to 
the light, read, “ A. Ghost.” 

I ushered him into the parlor, and pushing 
forward a chair, sat down opposite. “ Well, 
Mr. Ghost,” I said, “what can I do for you?” 
“ Nothing,” he answered, “ aside from listening 
to my story.” I told him to go ahead with his 
story, but to cut it short, as it was way after my 
usual hour for retiring. He glanced at the 
clock, which pointed to 11:40 and muttered, 
“ Twenty minutes. Well, I think I can do it.” 
So settling himself, he began : 

“ You already know by my card who I am, 
and now I must tell you where I live : it is not 
very far from here, in fact only across the road.” 
I shuddered as I thought that all the land across 
the road in front of our house was occupied by 
a cemetery. 

“ Well,” he continued, “ now as to the object 
of my call, which I confess is a rather late one. 
You well know that in olden times the followers 


of my profession used to haunt people, that is, 
wander around in all God-forsaken places, and 
at all unseemly hours, and scare the unfortunate 
people who might venture near them out of 
their wits. Or, perhaps, they selected a certain 
house in which to wander about, and used to 
tramp through it, arrayed in nothing but a sheet, 
with chains clanking and mysterious moanings 
going on. Now this is a very uncomfortable 
custom, not only to the ghost, who has to lug 
his chains about with him, and nearly freeze 
because of his scanty clothing, but also to his 
victims who, having had no introduction, know 
not who or what their visitors are. So I have 
chosen a different course to pursue in my wan- 
derings, namely, that of arising from my bed, or 
grave, as you might call it, and haunting people, 
not out in the cold, but in the warmth and glow 
of their own firesides. So I will tell you that I 
have called at this unseemly hour for the express 
purpose of haunting you. You are the first 
person I have ever tried this scheme on, so I do 
not know how it will work.” 

My first thought on hearing this strange 
speech was that my visitor was a maniac, but 
looking at him more closely I saw that he must 
be right, for I could see right through him, in 
fact the back of the chair in which he was sit- 
ting was as plainly visible as the front part. 
“ Well,” I said, “ now that you are here you had 


better begin to haunt.” At this he scratched 
his head, looked around the room with a puzzled 
air, and showed by many other actions that he 
had not provided for that part of the proceed- 
ing. Finally he laughed a troubled kind of a 
laugh and said, “ Well, I must confess that I do 
not know very well how to do that.” Seeing a 
way out of the difficulty I said, “ What time do 

you have to return to your gra bed?” “At 

twelve o’clock,” he answered. Well, thought I, 
if I can keep him interested in something else 
for about ten minutes, till it is twelve o’clock, 
may be he won’t have time to do any haunting. 

Turning to him I said, “ Don’t you think that 
the best way to haunt me would be to do it over 
a bottle of Madeira and a box of Havanas?” At 
this his eyes sparkled, and he said, “Well, I don’t 
know but what that might be a good plan. 
Suppose you get the stuff and we’ll try it.” 

So I bundled off to the pantry, 
leaving my ghostly visitor sitting 
with his feet on the table in evi- 
dent comfort. I soon returned 
with the wine and cigars, and 
setting a glass down on the 
table, poured him out some liquor 
and took some myself. He 
drained his glass to the dregs at 
the first quaff, and then lit a 
cigar. 



13— 




I was very curious to note what became of the 
liquor after he had swallowed it. I could dis- 
tinctly see the red wine slipping down his throat 
and floating around inside of him. Gradually 
it began to go to his head, and after he had 
drunk a few more glasses his whole head was 
nothing but a large red ball. This did not seem 
to affect him, however, and he soon removed his 
feet from the table and rising from his chair said, 
“ Well, I think I’ll try the haunting business 
now.” I told him to go ahead, as he had only 
five minutes to do it in. 

At this he started, glanced at the clock, drank 
another glass of wine, grabbed me by the wrists 
and commenced to dance around the room, 
knocked down chairs and tables, slamming me 
into everything we came across, and all the time 
singing a peculiar kind of song that sounded 
very like a funeral dirge. After about two 
minutes of this kind of business, he stopped as 
suddenly as he had started, and slammed me 
down in a chair, breathless. After I had some- 
what recovered my breath I told him I thought 
that a peculiar way of haunting people. He 
smiled and drank another glass of wine. 

What with the wine I had drunk and the 
tobacco smoke with which the room was by this 
time filled, my head began to swim, and the 
objects in the room to assume grotesque shapes. 
Finally I heard my ghostly visitor say, “There’s 


only one minute more,” and then he began to 
dance around the room, at the same time yelling 
at the top of his voice. His red head began to 
grow larger and his form seemed to fill the room, 
when I heard the clock strike twelve. 

At this moment there was a loud explosion, a 
crash of breaking glass, and I found myself 
lying on the floor looking up into the faces of 
some of my companions, who had just come 
home from the ball. 

“Well, old man,” said one, “you seem to have 
been having a high old time while we were 
away.” All around me were broken bottles, and 
tightly clenched in my right hand was a large 
decanter full of red wine. Dazed and nearly 
senseless I arose to my feet and looked around 
the room. Chairs and tables were lying up- 
turned on the floor, pieces of bric-a-brac were 
scattered all over the room, and a general scene 
of confusion met my eye. So my ghostly visitor 
was a dream, and my midnight dance a som- 
nambulistic dance with a wine bottle. 



15— 


a young Mathematician. 


WOUIyD like to acquaint the reader with 
my young brother Willie — Bill for 
short. He is just seven years old, 
and the pride (and terror) of the 
household. At present he is staying 
home from school because of a cough 
which bears a fancied resemblance to 
the whooping-cough. But be that as 
it may, he is at home, and that is 
enough. 

The other day, after rampaging the house from 
cellar to garret, he decided to pay a visit to a 
young friend of his next door, by the name of 
Joe, and help him amuse himself. He staid 
till supper-time and got home about half an hour 
after he was telephoned for, which is fast time 
for him. When he got home the family were 
all eating supper. 

After having washed his hands and face, he 
bounded into the dining-room and sat down at 
the table. He was very quiet for a little while, 
which, by the way, is very unusual, and then 
looking up he said: “Mamma, Joe gave me a 
couple of pieces of candy, over there.” Now 


candy is something he has been forbidden to eat, 
as it is not good for whooping-cough. 

“ You didn’t eat any of 
it, did you?” asked his 
mother. 

“ Only three pieces,” was 
the reply. 

“ How many pieces did 
you have left after eating 
three out of the couple?” 
facetiously remarked one 
of the family. 

“ Four,” answered the 
young mathematician. 

“ Well,” said his mother smiling, “ I guess you 
had better give me those until after supper.” 

“ Oh,” said Bill, looking up innocently, “ I ate 
them up coming home.” 




17— 


Callefc Bacfe- 




I T was during one of the recent political cam- 
paigns in Cleveland that this little event took 
place. There was quite 
a hot debate going on 
concerning the future of 
certain American indus- 
tries under the new Tar- 
iff Bill, and finally a 
rather small man, who 
gave one the opinion 
that he ought to be 
home tending the baby 
instead of addressing a 
political meeting, arose 
to give the people a few 
pointers on the way to 
carry on the government. 
He started off in a very 
timid manner at the very 
back of the stage 
to urge the anima- 
tion of American manufactories. But gradually, 
as he became warmed up, he began to get 
excited and step by step came out toward 



— 18 


the edge of the platform, waving his arms and 
pouring forth eloquence by the yard. 

“We must go forward ! ” he was saying. “ Do 
you consider it patriotic to allow the pauper 
labor of Europe to obtain the prestige over the 
best manufactures of our glorious country ? 
No ! A thousand times no ! ! We must push 
on, advance, go forward ! ” All this time he had 
been working his way out toward the end of 
the stage, and was now standing on the very 
edge of the platform. He was just raising his 
foot to accompany another burst of patriotic 
eloquence, and most likely another admonition 
to “go forward,” when a voice with a decided 
Hibernian accent cried out from the back of the 
room, “ Shure, an’ if yez goes forward anither 
shtip, yez’ll fall aff the roostrum.” 



19— 


Ube tournament. 


A TRUK STORY. 

G EORGE and Henry were the names of a 
couple of boys who lived in the little town 
of Chardon. George was a little the older, and 
was always the originator of all the pranks they 
used to play. One day he had been reading 
“The Boys’ King Arthur,” or some 
other book of chivalry, and having 
come to the place where “ Sir 
Launcelot ” gallantly trounced all 
the knights who were brave enough 
to bear a lance against 
him in a certain tourney, 
he decided that it would 
be a great thing to get 
up a tournament him- 
self. So he let Henry 
into the scheme, and 
' finally everything was 
arranged. The tourney 
ground was to be the old cow-pasture at the 
back of the barn, and on the appointed day the 
fence was thronged with the juvenile population 
of the neighborhood who had been asked to wit- 
ness the event. At about two o’clock the con- 
testants entered the lists, George mounted on his 



— 20 


black charger, the old 
mare, who hadn’t been 
outside of the pasture 
for nearly a year, and 
Henry seated on his pal- 
frey, which looked some- 
thing like a mule. They 
were each armed with 
clothes-poles for lances, 
and were greeted with 
cheers from all sides as 
they took their places in 
the lists. Now the rule 
of the match was that they shouldn’t strike 
straight forward, but should wait until they were 
passing each other and then swing around side- 
ways and strike on the back. The first onslaught 
was attended with very little damage, except that 
George swung around too hard, and missing his 
mark, fell off the horse onto his head. But this 
did not make much difference, and they were soon 
facing each other once more. This time George 
was a little more lucky and managed to get in a 
good lick in the small of Henry’s back. At this 
Henry commenced to cry and said that he 
wouldn’t play any more if George hit so hard. 
“All right,” said George, “ I know how to settle 
that. We won’t strike at each other at all, but 
just hit the horses so it will look as if we were 
fighting.” Henry agreed to this and the tourna- 



ment started again. This time Henry was the 
aggressor, and as he was going past on the fly 
he brought his pole around and hit the old mare 
a good one on the back. Now, as she had not 
been let into the secret, she 
naturally objected to this treat- 
ment, and signified her disap- 
proval by kicking up her heels 
and starting off like 
' ■ L,n ~ the wind for the barn. 
George hung gallant- 
ly to the reins, gently remon- 
strating with her. “ Whoa, 
Mag ! Whoa, old girl ! ” But 
she wouldn’t “ whoa ” worth a 
cent, and finally George was 
forced to pull her into a clump 
of bushes to prevent his being 
knocked off when she turned 
in at the gate. This stopped her running, 
but she immediately commenced to kick and 
buck like all possessed, and very soon George 
found himself perched up in a tree near by. 
The mare, after having rid herself of her 
troublesome burden, uttered a joyful neigh and 
trotted off to the barn, leaving George to disen- 
gage himself from the encircling boughs and to 
seek “ terra firma ” as best he could. Needless 
to say the great tournament had to be abandoned 
and the boys were forced to find some other 
mode of amusing themselves. 

















































































I 






























4 

















H Christmas Gbost Ston?. 



was Christmas eve and, 
dinner being over, the 
family had assembled in 
the drawing room. Sud- 
denly, during a lull 
in the conversation, 
someone suggested that 
Grandfather should tell 
a story. 

“ Oh, yes ! ” cried out 
a young member of the 
household, “tell us about 
something that happened 
while you were in the 
army.” 

The old man thus ap- 
pealed to, smiled and said, “ Very well. I will 
tell you about a strange thing that happened 
to me during the late war. But it is a ghost 
story, and perhaps you younger ones may not 
wish to hear it.” Cries of “Yes, yes!” “Do 
tell it ! ” followed this speech, and the old 
soldier, well pleased with the good start his 
story had received, cleared his throat and began : 


25— 


“ It was just thirty years ago to-night that I 
was doing picket duty. The army was en- 
camped about five miles from the little town of 

, near Richmond. The following day 

being Christmas, we soldiers had prepared for a 
fine time, and so it was with a light heart that I 
was treading the snow on my beat that night. 
I was to be relieved at twelve, and it was 
already half-past eleven. In passing over a 
small hill I could not help but admire the view 
that was thus given me. It was a perfect night 
and the full moon was shining with dazzling 
brightness on the fields white with snow. To 
my right, and far away behind me stretched the 
James, while directly in front of me lay the 
little town of , wrapped in solemn still- 

ness. 

“ But as I stood thus gazing about me, my 
attention was attracted by the figure of a man 
which emerged from a dark clump of bushes 
near by, and approached me. As he stepped 
out into the moonlight I saw by his uniform 
that he was a rebel, and in an instant I had 
dropped on one knee behind a bush, while my 
gun flew to my shoulder. But when I should 
have pulled the trigger, some unseen power 
seemed to stay my hand, and I could not bring 
myself to send the bullet on its fatal mission. 

“ Still the man came nearer and nearer, look- 
ing neither to the right nor the left. He passed 


within a few feet of where I knelt, paralyzed by 
an unknown terror, and I had a good view of 
him. A bony right hand clutched a rusty 
musket, while his face, which was so thin that it 
could more readily be imagined to be that of a 
grinning skull than of a living being, was of 
such a ghastly whiteness that I instinctively 
recoiled. His small eyes, deeply sunk in their 
hollow sockets, seemed to glow with an un- 
natural light. His clothes, old and tattered, 
hung in rags about him and had evidently been 
exposed to all sorts of weather. 

“ His long, noiseless stride soon carried him 
into the woods and out of my sight. As I stood 
gazing after him, many confused thoughts came 
to my mind. Who could this strange rebel be ? 
Who was this prowling around so near our 
forces ? A spy ! And I had allowed him to go 
unmolested ! I stood for a few minutes dumb- 
founded at the enormity of the mistake I had 
made, and was just about to plunge into the 
woods in search of him, when I seemed to see a 
faint glow way off in the forest. I watched it 
and perceived that it was approaching me, and 
as it emerged into a moonlit space, I observed 
that it was the same rebel returning. 

“ The unnatural and ghostly light that thus 
hovered around him so unnerved me that for a 
second time I allowed him to pass unharmed, 


. WW\\| 


and enter the same dark clump of bushes from 
which I had first seen him emerge. 

“ So he was in truth a rebel spy who, having 
entered our lines and having learned what he 
wished, had returned to his own ranks. Having 
fully convinced myself that this was so, and 
cursing myself for my imprudence, I turned and 
started to descend the hill. I was about half 
way down, when, happening to cast a furtive 
glance at that dark clump of bushes, I was sur- 
prised to see that rebel come forth from it and 
pursue his same methodical march. By this I 
perceived that my supposition that 
he was a spy was incorrect, and 
that he was nothing but a rebel 
sentry upon his beat. But although 
I was somewhat relieved at the 
thought that I had committed no 
crime in letting him pass, I still 
thought it my duty to waylay him 
and kill him on his return. 

“ I accordingly set out for the 
bushes where he had each time 
come from and looked about 
for his footprints in the snow, in order that I 
might station myself at the best possible point. 
But to my amazement I could not discover a 
single footprint, although I had distinctly seen 
him march over that very ground three times ! 
Who, then, was this mysterious being who could 



—28 


walk upon snow three inches deep and not leave 
a single footprint ? As I stood facing the bush 
and pondering over this last phenomenon, my 
blood was frozen in my veins by the sight of 
that same ghostly figure passing not two feet 
from where I was standing, and entering the 
bushes in front of me. He disappeared in the 
thicket, and at the same time I heard a clock in 
the village strike twelve, the hour of my relief. 

“ As the last stroke was borne to me on the 
night air, a rifle-shot rang out from the thicket 
into which the sentry had just advanced, and 
echoing it a shriek of the most uncanny weird- 
ness. I stood for a few moments bewildered 
and startled, and then springing forward began 
to tear away the branches which intervened 
between me and the spot from which that un- 
earthly scream had come. At last I forced my 
way into the very midst of the thicket, and 
there stretched out upon the ground and half 
covered by the snow, lay the skeleton of a rebel 
sentry. A bullet hole in the 
skull, which I immediately rec- 
ognized as that of the rebel who < | 
but a few moments before I had \ 
seen enter the thicket, told the t 
cause of his death. So my 
midnight tormentor had been the ghost of a 
rebel sentry who, having been murdered upon 
his beat, came forth and renewed his march 



29- 


every night until the striking of twelve called 
him to die again. I returned to camp, and until 
this day have never mentioned the occurrence 
to any one.” 

For a moment after the old man ceased talk- 
ing there was a lull, after which the older ones, 
having exchanged many sly winks, gravely 
hinted that Grandfather’s abilities as a story- 
teller were certainly amazing, although the 
children immediately voted it a capital story. 



Jones's Bbventure wttb a Mbale. 



ES, sir,” said Jones the other even- 
^ ing as the Club was assembled in 

I its rooms after a supper at Dels, 

Jr ' this talk y° u Allows have started 

about the ‘ Descent of Man,’ re- 
minds me of one of the strangest 
events that has ever befallen me.” 

As Jones’s stories were famous 
for their exciting and interesting 
nature, as well as for their vivacity . , the room 
immediately became quiet, and the “ Descent 
of Man ” was forced to take a back seat until 
the adventure had been related. 



“ It happened this way,” he began, carefully 


31— 


lighting another cigar. “Shortly after my grad- 
uation from college, being of an adventurous 
spirit, I embarked upon a whaler as a deck-hand, 
partly from my love of adventure, but chiefly to 
procure a little material for a story I had in 
mind. The story was never written, but I got 
enough experience from that one trip to last me 
the rest of my life. 

“ After reaching the whaling grounds, we 
cruised around for a couple of months with very 
poor luck. As we had only caught three whales 
during all the while we had been out, you can 
easily see that the time naturally hung very 
heavily on our hands. To pass away this time, 
and also to get a little exercise, we fellows used 



to play foot-ball on the after-deck. You remem- 
ber I used to play full-back on our college eleven 
and, before embarking on my trip, I had care- 
lessly thrown a foot-ball and pump into my 
trunk. This ball came in very handy now and 
we used to have some exciting games on board, 
although we couldn’t do much punting for fear 
of kicking the ball into the sea. It was in the 


middle of one of these games, and just after I 
had made a beautiful end run for twenty-five 
yards, that the lookout aroused us all with the 
cry of “There she blows!” Hastily kicking 
the foot-ball down the hatchway and sticking 
the pump into my pocket, I climbed over the 
side of the ship into a boat that had already 
been let down. We were soon pulling towards 
the whale, which was sporting around in the 
water some quarter of a mile from us. It did 
not take us very long to come within range, and 
then the man in the bow let fly the harpoon. 
The thing didn’t hit him square, but, striking 
too high up, it glanced off and flew away into 
the water. It must have scratched him pretty 
badly, though, for he immediately wheeled 
around and set sail for us at the rate of about 
forty knots an hour. He came so suddenly that 
we didn’t have time to get out of his way, and 
with one blow of his mighty tail he broke the 
boat to pieces and sent us all flying into the air. 

“ I was here endeavoring to ascertain by cal- 
culus, a study over which I had spent many 
hours while at college, how long it would be 
before I struck the water, reckoning the rate at 
which I started as a mile a minute. But I was 
interrupted in this problem by alighting, not in 
the water, but upon the back of the whale, who, 
I felt sure by his motions, was making prepara- 
tions to dive. As I was the best diver in college, 


I felt reasonably sure that I could stay under 
water as long as his oceanic majesty, and so 
taking a long breath and renewing the grip I had 
taken on his back-bone, I gave him to under- 
stand that I was ready as soon as he was. He 
must have comprehended me, for he immediately 
went under water, where he remained only 
about a half an hour. 

“ During this short interval that we spent 
under water a happy thought struck me, and 
taking out my knife I whittled a little hole in 
his side and fitted into it the nozzle of the foot- 
ball pump, which I had stuck into my pocket 
before leaving the ship. Then I waited patiently 
until he should again emerge into the atmos- 
phere. He soon came up to get another breath 
and I commenced to pump 
for dear life. He didn’t go 
down so far the next time 
he dove and only staid 
under about fifteen min- 
utes. When he came up I renewed my pumping 
tactics, and by so doing I had him in a little while 
so full of air that he couldn’t dive a foot. Then 
carefully plugging up the hole, I arose to take a 
look at the scenery. I noticed as I regained 
my feet that the whale’s back had swelled out 
to about twice the size it was when I first came 
aboard him, presumably from the quantity of air 
I had pumped into him. I also noticed that he 



was making wonderful time, through, or rather 
over, the water, and then another bright idea 
struck me. I had quite a quantity of cord in 
my pocket, and with this I quickly rigged up a 
halter and pair of reins and, taking out my 
pocket compass, steered him, as nearly as I could 
judge, for New York. 

“ The whale kept up his wonderful speed the 
rest of that day, all through the night, and early 
the next morning, as I arose after a very refresh- 
ing sleep, I was greatly gratified to see a long 
blue line at the horizon on my left, which I 
immediately recognized, even at that distance, 
as being a part of the northern shore of the 
United States. Toward noon the whale began 
to get rather tired and slackened down a bit, but, 
as I was particularly desirous to reach New 
York in time for supper, 
for I had eaten nothing 
since that morning on 
ship-board, I effectually 
stirred him up by danc- 
ing a double shuffle on 
his fourth lumbar verte- 
bra, a place I discovered 
through reading Gib- 
bon’s history as being 
the most sensitive part of all sea animals. 

“ About three in the afternoon I sighted New 
York, and then, running up a small American 



35 - 


flag that I had in my pocket to his starboard fin, 
I steamed up the harbor with all the majesty of 
a man-of-war. I anchored the whale in the 
harbor by covering up his eyes, which, you 
know, is the best way in the world to stop this 
animal, and then signaled for a boat to come to 
take me ashore. One was immediately launched 
from the dock and put out to me, by means of 
which I quickly reached land. On my disem- 
barking, I was naturally deafened by questions 
about my curious trans-Atlantic liner, and after 
I had given as satisfactory an account of my 
adventure as was possible, the captain of a 
whaling vessel that had arrived that morning 
offered me a good sum for the whale, if I was 
through with it. I quickly accepted his offer 
and he dispatched a boat to kill the whale and 
bring it ashore. When quite close to the animal, 
one of the men fired a rifle at it in order to kill 
it. This produced the same effect as the stick- 
ing of a pin into a toy balloon would. There 
was an explosion that could be heard for miles, 
the water around the animal was thrown to a 
height of a hundred and fifty feet, and whale and 
boat vanished into space. The only remnant of 
the whale that was ever found was a small piece 
of the hole which I had bored in his side in 
which to insert the pump, and this was picked 
up three miles in shore.” 


Here Jones stopped, and the company of one 
accord sorrowfully arose, and putting on their 
hats and coats, left him to finish his cigar alone. 



37 - 


Deductions a la Sbetiocfe Ibolmes. 





H had just been reading Sherlock Holmes 
and was completely in love with the detec- 
tive. Holmes was his idol, beside whom 
other great men were pygmies. He imitated 
the actions of his god, tried to assume an all 
absorbed look, and a clear penetrating gaze. I 
was even prepared to hear that he had contracted 
the habit of using cocaine, as did Sherlock. 

Knowing his peculiarity I was therefore pre- 
pared for some of his extraordinary ideas, as I 
met him the other morning. He came up smil- 
ing, and grasping me warmly by the hand said : 
“ Good morning, my dear Watson — er, I should 
say Smith. Why weren’t you down to the club 
last night? Missed you awfully. Jones told us 
a capital story. Oh, I see, went to the theatre 
instead, and with May, too. Say, this is too 
good, I must tell the boys — ” Here I inter- 
rupted him by saying, “ Yes, I did take her 
down to the theatre, but how in the world did 
you know? Who told you ? ” 

“ Why, my dear boy,” he said, “ awfully sim- 
ple, don’t you know. In taking out your glove 
just now you pulled out a theatre coupon. 
























* 






« 


















There it is at your feet now ; you can easily read 
it, — March 14, last night, Orchestra Circle M 26. 
So you see that it’s proved that you went last 
night. But then I thought, what in the world 
induced him to get such a good seat as that? 
Standing room is generally good enough for 
him. Then it occurred to me, why, he must 
have gone with some one. Of course it was a 
girl, because if he had gone with another fellow 
he would have made the other fellow buy the 
tickets, and then he would not have had that 
coupon. Therefore he took a girl, and what 
girl in all this world would he throw away a 
dollar and a half on but May? And there you 
are. See?” 

I had to confess that he was right and pre- 
tended to be amazed at his wonderful reasoning, 
but inwardly burned to box his ears for some of 
the remarks he had made. He then took me in 
a friendly manner by the arm and we started off 
together. In the course of our conversation I 
asked him how he was getting along on his 
Lame Horse Problem. 

“ Admirably, admirably,” he said, rubbing his 
hands. “I’ve figured it all out and can lay my 
hand on the culprit at a moment’s notice.” 

‘‘Have you made much progress in your study 
of deduction?” I asked. 

“ Yes, indeed,” he replied, “ I’m getting along 
first rate.” 


I here noticed an acquaintance of mine whom 
I knew quite well coming down the street, and 
pointing to him I asked my friend if he could 
deduce anything from his appearance. 

“ Easily enough, my dear boy,” he said. “ He 
is a widower, his wife having died very recently. 
Goes down town to business, and is an architect. 
He also belongs to the Elk Lodge. Rather 
hasty and careless, I should say, and apt to lose 
his temper.” 

“ Wonderful! ” I cried. “Everything is ex- 
actly true. But how do you do it, old man ? 
It’s truly marvelous.” 

He smiled gooS-naturedly, at these remarks, 
and said, “ Why, everthing is as plain as day if 
you only use your eyes. You see there has been 
a death in his family from the crepe on his hat, 
and it is plain that it is his wife because he has 
been trying to sew a button on his vest himself, 
and has got it too high. You perceive that he 
goes down town to business from the fact that 
the edge of his car ticket pocket is frayed a 
great deal. That he is an architect is plain by 
the mechanical drawing pen and ruler that he 
has in his vest pocket, and the blue prints, pre- 
sumably the plans of a house, he is carrying in 
his hand. His watch charm shows that he be- 
longs to the Elk Lodge. His shoes are blacked 
only half way around, which shows that he is 
hasty and careless, as does also the fact that only 


one button on each glove is fastened. As you 
also may have noticed, one of his shoe strings 
was knotted while the other was in good condi- 
tion. He broke this string while in a hurry, 
presumably losing his temper because of a knot 
in it or some other trivial cause.” 

“ Everything is quite clear,” I said. “And all 
you need is a sharp eye, eh ? ” 

“ That’s all,” he replied. “And now,” point- 
ing to a house, the owner of which I knew quite 
well, “ let’s see what we can deduce from the 
appearance of that house. Of course it is quite 
plain that the servant girl has just left from the 
fact that the small boy of 
the household is opening 
the door for a visitor, and 
whoever heard of a small 
boy doing that unless he 
were made to ? And why 
should he be made to unless 
the servant girl had left? 

So, that much is plain. 

That fountain in his front 
yard shows that the pro- 
prietor is of an artistic 
turn of mind as well as 
does the house itself, for 
it is a beauty. His wife 
loves flowers as you see 
by that flower-bed, and 



43 — 


the bushes in the corner, and the potted 
plants in the window. He has an older son, as 
is shown by these cigarette stubs, a trail of 
which leads up to the front porch. And lastly, 
he is a German, from that smell of sauerkraut 
that comes from his kitchen.” 

“All true,” I cried, “ and well worked out. 
You’re certainly a wonder, old man, and quite 
as good as the original, I should say.” 

A complacent grin overspread his features at 
this flattery, and seeing the wonder and amaze- 
ment his remarkable reasoning powers had cre- 
ated, and desirous of another opportunity to 
display them, he pointed to a rather portly man 
who had just then come around the corner, and 
said, “ Here comes a benevolent old man who, I 
should say, is even now on some 
errand of kindness. He is a banker 
and has a home in the suburbs. He 
has three daughters, two sons, keeps 
a cow, rides a bicycle, plays the 
cornet, and — ” 

By this time the gentleman in 
question had come up to us, and 
wishing to ascertain the truth of 
my friend’s assertion, I stopped him 
by politely asking the time. He 
accommodated me and then turn- 
ing to my companion was about to 




speak to him. I interrupted him, however, by 
asking if he were a banker, whether he lived in 
the country, kept a cow, rode a bicycle, played 
the cornet and so on. When I had finished he 
smiled and said, “ Well, no. Not exactly. I 
live down town and am a collector by trade. I 
was just on my way to see your friend here on a 
little matter of business. Only a bill for a suit 
of clothes that has been placed in my hands by 
his tailor: that’s all. We can fix it up in a few 
moments if — ” 

Thinking this a convenient time to depart, I 
sneaked around the corner, leaving my amateur 
detective friend to settle with the benevolent 
gentleman on an errand of kindness. 



45 — 


H pleasant Evening mb a ®niet Storv. 

HE last meeting of the club, before break- 
ing up for the summer, took place last even- 
ing. Everyone was there and the time 
was passed very enjoyably. Jones told 
another story, Smith related his experience 
with a mad cow, and our Sherlock Holmes 
gave us the data he had accumulated on his 
latest case, which he called, “ The Problem of 
the Bald-Headed Eeague.” Robinson also gave 
us a capital story of an adventure he met with 
while hunting in the wilds of Michigan. It ran 
like this : 

“ East summer, in company with about a 
dozen other fellows, I took a hunting trip into 
northern Michigan, and while there an event, 
or rather a series of events, happened which I 
am safe in saying was the strangest I ever heard 
of. One evening we were returning to camp, 
and on our way ran across a small log cabin. 
From the outside it bore every appearance of 
being deserted, but curiosity led us to push 
aside the door and look in. The interior was 
as lonely and forsaken as the outside, and after 
a brief survey we closed the door and started 



-46 



47 



away. As I latched the door, I seemed to hear 
a snarl from somewhere inside, but, since no 
one else heard it, I decided that I must have 
been mistaken. More than once on our return 
to camp I heard twigs snap behind us, and long 
before we had reached there I could have sworn 
we were being followed. But I did not like to 
say anything to my companions for fear of being 
laughed at, so I said nothing. Before retiring 
that night, we hung up a large piece of venison 
on a tree near the camp. The next morning, 
being detailed for cook, I started off to obtain a 



slice of it for breakfast. Imagine my surprise 
on reaching it to find one side chewed and torn 
to shreds. As it was fully six feet from the 
ground, I was at a loss to imagine what kind of 
beast had done the mischief. Of course the 
whole piece was spoiled and sorrowfully I went 
back to camp and related our loss. We break- 


fasted that morning on salt pork and coffee, re- 
solving thereafter to keep a sharp lookout for 
the thief. 

“ Our next day’s hunting resulted in a half 
dozen brace of ducks. Being unwilling to allow 
these to hang as food for the prowler who had 
been around the night before, we placed them 
when cleaned just inside the flap of our tent. 
That night I was awakened by a sound outside 
and was just about to look out when I was par- 
alyzed by seeing the flap of the tent pushed aside 



and a naked human foot thrust in, the toes of 
which fastened around the neck of one of the 
ducks and slowly withdrew it. For some mo- 
ments I was unable to move from sheer aston- 
ishment, and then leaping up I rushed outside. 
But not a soul was in sight and the camp was as 
still as death. I did not go back to bed, but, as 
it was nearly daybreak, I dressed myself and 


taking my gun walked out in search of game. I 
had no idea of getting anything so early in the 
morning, and the chief reason for my going was 
to look around for some trace of the thief who 
had stolen a part of our breakfast. In my walk 
I happened to run across the log cabin and, just 
as I came in sight of it, the most unearthly 
screech I had ever heard came from it. I stopped 
and, hastily cocking my gun, stole forward to 
see what animal was lurking inside. I cautiously 
shoved open the door and looked around. But 
the cabin was entirely empty and everything 
was as I had seen it the last time. I was just 
leaving when I seemed to hear that same snarl, 
but, although I turned back immediately and 
scrutinized the interior even more closely than I 
had the time before, there was absolutely noth- 
ing in sight and I slowly turned away and 
started for camp. 

“ When I returned the rest were all up and I 
related to them my experience in the cabin as 
well as the theft of the duck ; however, all the 
return I received for my narrative was the state- 
ment ‘ that I had been dreaming.’ But I was 
convinced that everything was true and that 
night I decided to solve the problem, if possible. 
Accordingly I hung up a large piece of meat 
where the other had been and then, instead of 
retiring with the rest, staid up to await devel- 
opments. About midnight I was aroused from 


a little doze I had fallen into, by the sound of 
some one moving about the camp and, looking 
up, beheld the figure of a man standing within 
a few rods of me. Suddenly he espied the meat, 
and running over to it, he stood with his hands 
clasped behind his back and commenced to tear 
it to shreds with his teeth, eating it raw. I 
confess I was somewhat taken aback at this 
strange action and did not like to make my 
presence known until he had finished his feast. 
Then he dropped on his knees and with glaring 
eyes gazed about the camp. Having satisfied 
himself that he had been unseen, he arose and 
began to steal noiselessly toward the tent. All 
this time he had kept his hands clasped behind 
him, and, on reaching the tent, he slowly pushed 
the flap aside and thrusting in his foot drew it 
forth with a large loaf of bread clutched in his 
toes. Thinking I now had a clear case against 
him, I arose suddenly and, running forward with 
my gun to my shoulder, commanded him to stop. 
Seeing that he was discovered he dropped the 
bread, made a snap at me with his jaws, and 
uttering an ear-piercing shriek that aroused the 
camp, plunged off into the thickets, still keeping 
his hands behind his back. His actions so un- 
nerved me that I was unable to get a good shot 
at him as he fled, and fired wildly. By this time 
the whole camp was awake and came tumbling 
out of their blankets, demanding the cause of 


all this commotion. I explained as well as I 
could in my excited state. When dressed we all 
started out with lanterns for the cabin, in the 
direction of which the thief had run and where 
we were by this time determined he was staying. 

“As we came in sight of it, shriek after 
shriek pierced the darkness, and it was only 
after a long consultation that we decided to at- 
tack it. Then, ‘ a line of battle having been 
formed,' we slowly descended upon that little 
redoubt where our midnight disturber was en- 
trenched. With guns cocked we grouped our- 
selves about the door and then raising a lantern 
slowly pushed it open. But not a soul was to 
be seen inside and all was as silent as the grave. 
We stood for some moments looking in and then 
were startled by that low snarl. This time I 
located it, and looking upward beheld a sight 
that chilled my blood. Right above us and 
clinging to the rafters with his feet, his hands 
still clasped behind him, crouched a ragged, 
hairy man. He glared down upon us with wild, 
bloodshot eyes and seemed a horrible sight, dis- 
torted as he was, by the feeble light of the lan- 
tern. Being discovered he leaped down and 
made a snap at us like a mad dog. A blow 
from the stock of one of our guns soon stretched 
him senseless on the floor. Then it was that I 
discovered the reason why he never used his 
hands. They were bound behind his back by a 


part of an iron chain, so tightly indeed that they 
had nearly withered away. Being deprived of 
the use of his hands he had trained himself to 
use his feet with almost equal facility. This ac- 
counted for the strange appearance of that naked 
foot in the tent. We hastily bound him, and 
early that morning took him to the nearest set- 
tlement, about ten miles away, where we dis- 
covered that he was a mad man who had escaped 
from custody some three years before and for 
whom a large reward was offered. We received 
the reward after some little trouble and — well, I 
guess that’s about all there is to the story,” and 
here he stopped. 

We unanimously decided that the tale, if it 
were true, was mighty improbable, which we 
didn’t hesitate to tell Robinson ; but on the 
other hand, if it were not true, it was a first 
rate lie. 



Scraps from a iRote asoof?. 

H E belonged to that class of people who are 
forever trying to be funny. In fact, he 
liked nothing better than to be laughed at, and 
it pleased him to be referred to as belonging to 
the “smart set.” But in one instance his fun- 
niness aided materially in his downfall. He was 



standing with his best girl one evening by a 
railroad crossing waiting for a train to go by. 
The cars had gradually slowed up, and at last 
when the caboose came along they were going 
very slowly. A bright idea suddenly struck 


him. He thought he would just scare the life 
out of the girl and do something real smart. 
With the athletic grace of a cow, he swung 
himself upon the step of the slow moving ca- 
boose. Waving his hat in the air he cried out 
in a tragical voice, “ Farewell, Nan, I’m off — ” 
What he was going to say was that he was off 
for Kalamazoo, or some other distant clime, but 
he never finished it. At this moment the 
square-toed boot of the brakeman shot around 
the corner of the door — now this may seem 
somewhat inconsistent with the physical make- 
up of a human leg, but it certainly happened in 
this instance — and our hero found himself 
groveling in the ditch, while the genial brake- 
man sang out to him, “ You can betcher life yer 
ded right there, pard. Yer off and ’way off.” 

* 


Hi. S. foot Ball Song. 


Oh, once there was a foot ball team, 

From C. H. S. they came, 

They thought they could play foot ball, 

But they didn’t know the game. 

They bucked against U. S. one day 
And — Oh, my — what a shame, 

While we go marching through High School. 

CHORUS. 

U. S. ! U. S. ! We’ll sing it o’er and o’er. 

U. S. ! U. S. ! Oh, High School don’t feel sore, 
You are not in the class with us, 

Although you do weigh more, 

While we go marching through High School. 

O, watch young Burke go ’round the end. 

And Roby buck the line, 

And Mack go through the center, 

You can bet it’s something fine. 

We’ll show you how the game is played, 

And make you yell for time, 

While we go marching through High School. 

Chorus.— U. S. ! U. S. ! Etc. 

O, yes, and there is Ammon, too, 

And Cross on t’other end, 

And Sullivan at quarter, 

He’s the finest in the land, 

And Striebenger and Little too, 

They’re all just made of sand, 

While we go marching through High School. 

Chorus.— U. S. ! U. S. ! Etc. 

When Alexander strikes the line 
You’ll see it melt away, 

He knows more in a minute 
Than you flats do in a day ; 

And Deming, Perkins, Moxham, 

They’ll show you how to play, 

While we go marching through High School. 

Chorus.— U. S. ! U. S. ! Etc. 



T HERE are some souls whose magnanimity 
and generosity seem so overwhelmingly 
great that they appear too ethereally good for 
this mundane sphere. Such a one recently 


boarded a Euclid avenue ear at the 
square. As she reached the second 
step the car started with a jerk, and 
had it not been for the conductor’s 



timely assistance she would have been 
thrown into the gutter. Such kind- 


ness, she thought, ought not to be 


allowed to pass unrewarded. When 


the conductor came around for her 


fare, she extracted what she thought 
was a dime from her purse and 
handed it to him. “ Never mind 
the change,” she said, with a benig- 
nant smile. The conductor looked 


at the silver piece long and silently. Then 
he sorrowfully handed it back to her. It was 
a three-cent piece. 



-58 


Ube trials of ©reatness. 


LGERNON de Softhedd was leaning back 
upon a divan in his richly furnished 
studio. Since the publication of his 
book, “The Influence of the Mind Over 
Thought,” he had been wined, dined and recep- 
tioned until life had become quite a bore. His 
book had been favorably reviewed by the critics, 
and people began to speak of him as the “ Napo- 
leon of Literature.” In fact he had become quite 
a lion, and the world was impatiently waiting for 
his next production. He felt that he owed it to 
the world to write another book, and was deep in 
the puzzling question of what next to turn to in 
literature, when his valet de chambre entered, 
and announced that Mr. Paddard, of the Daily 
Hoodwink , was below and requested an inter- 
view. With a sigh of resignation Algy bade 
the valet show him up, and settled himself 
among the pillows preparatory to undergoing 
the ordeal. Soon the door was opened and Mr. 
Paddard introduced. With the inherent ease of 
his kind he deposited his hat on a statue of 
Minerva, and took the chair Algy offered. He 
drew out note book and pencil, then crossing 



59 — 


his legs, said, “ I came to ask you a few things 
about your book, ‘ The Influence of the Mind 
Over Thought.’ ” 



“ Yes,” said Algy, wearily. 

“ In the first place,” began the reporter, “ .Has 
insanity been present in your family to any 
alarming extent ? ” 

The intimation implied in this question was 
too much for the young author, so he refused an 
answer, said it was getting late, and wished the 
reporter good day, — and in Halifax. 


The reporter went, and the Daily Hoodwink 
appeared as usual the next morning ; but with a 
three-column “ roast” for our hero. 

But hardly had the pusher of the pencil taken 
his leave, than the valet returned, this time with 
a pile of invitations which the postman had just 
left. Now if there was anything Algy detested 
it was an invitation to a reception. Invitations 
of a different nature he treated in a different 
light, if someone else would be kind enough to 
do the treating. He slowly 
arose with a look of inex- 
pressible disgust upon his 
fair countenance, and going 
to his writing desk drew 
forth a handful of engraved 
regrets. Signing the names 
of the parties in the spaces 
left for them he sealed and 
addressed the envelopes, 
and once more returned 
to the divan. 

But rest is as unobtainable to the great as it is 
to a dog with a tin can tied to his tail. Once 
more the valet disturbed him, this time to an- 
nounce Miss , on the “ Subscription List for 

Poor Authors.” “Alas,” thought Algy, “Why 
did I write that book? ” 

Miss was admitted, and Algy having 

generously gone down into his pocket for a 



61 — 


dollar and a quarter, she departed all smiles and 
grimaces. 

The hardest trial was, however, yet to come. 
He had hardly been alone five minutes when his 
valet once more aroused him. By this time he 
was pretty well riled. “ Well, confound it all, 
what is it this time?” he cried impatiently. 



“ What with your reporters, and your invita- 
tions and your requests for aid in this direction 
or in that I’m heartily sick of being a successful 
writer. Come; out with it. Who is it now? ” 

“ Poor Mr. Scribbler is below,” said the valet, 
with never a grin, “And he wants to know if 
you can spare him the ten dollars for those six 
chapters on The Influence of the Mind Over 
Thought?’” 












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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